The Confessions of a Hogwarts Pet or a Rats Tale
by Vibrissae A.K.A Whiskers
Summary: I, Vibrissae will unfold to you the innermost secrects of Hogwarts. Come with me and I'll show you the tunnels and passages most humans never get to see. Nibbled bed sheets, exciting chases, woodshavings I've it got it all!


Squeak!  
  
Disclaimer- You know the score. Recognise it and it's JK's. Whiskers a.k.a. Vibrissae is most definitely mine 'cos it's me so paws off! Or I'll bite you so swear me I will! Right with that over on with my story. ________________________________________________________________ Hello. My name is Vibrissae, but most people call me Whiskers. And I am a rat. Don't look so surprised keyboards aren't that hard to master. On the computer, no one knows you're a rat. Opposable thumbs and you're top of the world. Know how many computer systems are taken down by rats? Find out, it's staggering.  
  
Any way you may be wondering why I am writing this. These are the confessions of a Hogwarts pet. Yes I am an Old Hogwardian, seven years within those walls. I mean really within the walls. Place is a honeycomb. Some humans think they know their way around. Hah! (That's an ironic laugh by the way.) I should now say that they couldn't find a certain part of their lower anatomy with both hands, a map etc. I hesitate to as even they probably could. The more intelligent ones at least. However, you humans are just too big to make proper use of the tunnels. Some people would just have been better as rats.  
  
So, this is a true insider account of life at Hogwarts. It is not an easy life for a rat at Hogwarts. Especially a stupid rat. Seven years and this document prove that I am not a stupid rat. (Maybe some magic rubbed off; it sticks in the fur like static.) However many of my (for lack of a better word) friends fell foul of owls and cats and toads would poison you as soon as look at you with their tiny, ugly eyes. We rats had the worst of it. Predators all around. And there were always far more of them than there were of us. We've never been popular and don't want to be thank you very much. Popularity may mean an increase in numbers, but a weakening of stock. Unscrupulous breeders exploit people's desire and breed the animals indiscriminately with no regard for their feelings (which are the most valid) on the subject. You find some animals who are ill all the time and live short unhappy lives or who have no instincts because their parents were first cousins or something. We are quite happy to get on with those sorts of things our selves. No, you can keep popularity thank you very much.  
  
I'd better give you a brief history of my self before we begin. I began life as a wild rat, but when I was very young barely out of the nest, I was captured. Thank goodness, it wasn't a (phah!) researcher, but the Williams family. I could have ended up as some hopeless nutcase doing mazes till I die. Instead, I was caught (thankfully) in a humane trap. My family had been eating their papers and the like for a while. The attic was warm and dry. But when I wandered down in search of food that life ended and the next one began. Cats are said to have nine lives, well if that's the case rats have at least ten. I think I'm on my fifth. (Probably.) They (the fools) were going to set me free in a near by field, but that wouldn't have done them much good. I'd have been back within the week. Homing pigeons ain't got anything on me and my kin. Anyway one of the children, who's name I'd come to learn was Mary, thought I looked sweet since I was so young and was convinced she'd be able to tame me. Well the Williams' are a soft lot and let her try. Well I said I was a clever rat and I'm nothing if not adaptable. Within two weeks, I had her feeding me out of her hand. You couldn't ask for a more affectionate pet. I realised pretty quick that I was on to a good thing. Someone feed me made sure I had clean bedding and water all the time. Mary was a good owner and let me out of that blasted cage a lot. There's not much to do in a cage, but think. I learned to read from the newspaper lining my cage. I'd eaten my share of books. Now I found there was a far more interesting and profitable use for paper and ink. (Though sometimes I crave the taste of a thin-leafed dictionary. Just m eaz elts on your tongue.) I learnt from an article on how on a learn foreign languages. Professor Grainwash I salute you. The nibbled-out picture of the bespectacled (one of my first words) Professor was quite happy to write away on his blackboard which he had been photographed in front of. He could talk which I understand is quite rare and expensive to produce. If I pressed my paw to a circle of red ink, his voice would come through clear and amazingly pronounced in many different languages. I've always said it's a pity about the vocal chord thing, I would have been a great orator. I can understand 8 languages, but speak none. Rat's language is very different. A lot is body language and smell and things you don't have words for.  
  
Well by the time I was fully-grown, the summer was over. There was a lot of commotion and the family became excited. I was given a new cage and I couldn't smuggle Professor Grainwash into it. Then one day my third life began. It began with a lot of jolting. Mary's face appeared and said not to worry and that we were going to Hogwarts whatever that was I holed my self up in my nest-box and didn't come out for anything. The movement seemed to go on for an age but when it stopped there were all sorts of new smells. Smoke! It overrode everything. But yet there were subtler scents, leather, chocolate, washed clothes. Even cat! I panicked. Where had I been taken? Where had Mary gone? Why was I in the presence of a cat! I ignored the smoke and concentrated on the cat. It was a tom cat, quite young, but slightly overfed. I remained tense and jumped out of my skin when the jolting began again. It took awhile for me to realise I wasn't going to be eaten just yet and to emerge from my box. I could see Mary and I sniffed her fingers through the bars.  
  
"Oh" she squeaked almost rat like. (I liked that about her, she was high pitched.) "Oh no it's you Whiskers." She turned to talk to the other humans. I smelt that they were both girls of about Mary's age. Deodorant can't cover up everything you know. "This is my rat Whiskers. Come on out." Showing off I emerged, sat up and cleaned my namesakes.  
  
"Oh a rat." Said one voice flatly. I didn't like this person instinctively. "I think it's kind of sweet. Where did you get it?" said the third occupant of the moving room. "We caught her in our house a couple of months ago. I tamed her, she was only young." "But it's not like a cat or an owl or something useful is it?" There was that flat voice again. Cue adorable behaviour. I rolled over and did a couple of backflips then sat upright like a begging dog. This sort of behaviour though demeaning wins a lot of friends in the human world, (but don't try it unless you are cute and fluffy.) "My cat's not very useful." Said the second nice voice, "Are you, you great lump?" she was addressing the occupant of the cat basket. "This is Dolly my fat and grumpy cat." The basket yowled, "He's not feeling very happy about the trip." Another growl issued from the wicker cage.  
  
There wasn't much else in the conversation of interest so I took a nap. To my shame I didn't wake up when I was moved again. I later found out that all the animals are sent to sleep for transport to the castle. But you can stay awake if you want to. The first time however didn't. The sunlight streaming through the gothic windows woke me. I was at Hogwarts. ________________________________________________________________  
  
I, Whiskers am quite happy with this piece. But I'd love to hear what you think. Don't worry there will be a plot. Somewhere. Possibly. Along with battles, cunning escapes, romance, and woodshavings.  
  
You've read so review  
  
You're cruel if you want to burn a small furry mammal with flames.  
  
Squeak! 


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